A Simple Plan
by Beaglicious
Summary: "You do surprise me sometimes, Much."  Robin-Marian-Much angst.  Pre-series, no spoilers.


Disclaimer: Robin Hood: BBC belongs to the BBC and I have no permission to borrow it or most of the characters used below. This story is not intended to infringe in any way and is not for profit.

A/N: I could not have written this fic without the inspiration I found in Canne's fantastic works, particularly _Marching As To War._

**A Simple Plan  
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The sun was shining brightly that day, allowing ample light to push through the thick canopy down to the forest floor. The blanket of leaves covering the earth revealed itself to be not just a dull brown, but a beautiful blend of all shades of brown, flecked amply with splashes of red, yellow and orange, and the moss growing on the rocks was a vibrant green as well. The forest was decidedly quieter than usual, as if its wild occupants were uncertain of how to treat the intrusion of sunlight into their normally dark surroundings. A flock of birds, previously invisible up in the branches of a great oak tree, burst forth from their hiding place, their cries conveying alarm.

"They're here," she whispered.

Her companion stopped chewing the apple he was munching on and cocked his head, listening. "I hear no horses. How can you be sure?"

"The birds," she replied, gesturing towards the sky. "They hear the horses."

"Oh," he said, swallowing the last lump of apple with great difficulty. In spite of the cool temperature, moisture beaded at his brow, and he wiped at it uselessly. It was not in his person to be conniving, and what he was about to do was the very definition. "Right. Tracking has never been my strong suit, my lady."

The lady swatted at him for his use of her title. "No, I suppose not. Why would it be? Your master has a way of attracting attention that makes the subtle art of tracking unnecessary."

At the mention of his master, the two looked at each other, reading the same question in the other's eyes: _Is he worth it?_

* * *

><p>The pain was worse than he had anticipated. Even with the remedies provided by the village medicine woman (and she was reputed to be among the best in southern England), he found he could not stay conscious for longer than a few minutes. He would wake, his vision unfocused and his throat raw, and have only a second before the pain radiating from his leg announced itself. A scream would soon follow, which always brought someone running, and a draught of bitter-smelling liquid would be hoisted to his lips with the commandment, "Drink." Oblivion always followed.<p>

This time, however, he was determined to get the answer to the question that always surfaced with his intermittent consciousness. "Robin," he coughed. "Is he here?"

His vision focused then, and he recognized Mary, one of the young women from the village who worked at Locksley Manor. Her eyes widened as her mouth formed a perfect circle. She did not answer, but instead ran from the room, returning in a few short moments with Beth, Robin's old nursemaid.

"He's asking for Master Robin," Mary squeaked.

"The master left with the King," Beth said, her tone flat.

Much had managed to prop himself up onto his elbows by then. "Left?" he asked, refusing to accept her answer.

"Left," Beth confirmed, with a curt nod of her head. "And he's taken your brother John with him in your stead."

Much flopped back down onto the bed then, every last ounce of ability and energy gone from his limbs. His plan, his brilliant plan, had failed. Worse, his younger brother John, who was as lacking in caution as Much was drowning in it, was traipsing off behind Master Robin to the Holy Land, where he was sure to get himself killed within a month of arriving. Surely this was God's way of punishing him for even allowing the idea of disobedience towards Robin to enter his head.

His last thought as he faded from consciousness was of Marian. How could he ever face her now?

* * *

><p>They later told him that he remained asleep or unconscious for the greater part of a fortnight. When he was finally able to stand the pain long enough to stay awake for a minute or two, he demanded to see Marian.<p>

"She's been 'round here every day checking on you herself, she has," Beth answered when he made her request. "Poor lady looks horrible, not that I've said that to her. You can tell she's been crying herself to sleep every night. Looks like she hasn't eaten much either, judging from the way her dress hangs off her. But I'll get her for you now, if you think you can stay awake long enough. I'm not gonna be dragging the lady all the way from Knighton Hall just so she can see your slumbering body, propped up in Master Robin's bed like you're a free man or something. I wouldn't go get her at all except she's insisting that I find her the moment you awaken. Seems to think you'd be asking for her, although I can't imagine why. Guess she figures you're the only one 'round here hurting as bad as she is."

As Beth had predicted, Much had fallen back asleep by the time Marian came, but he was roused as he heard her feet fly up the stairs. She burst through the door, tears already forming in her eyes.

"I should have never agreed to your ridiculous plan, Much," she said, dropping to her knees at his bedside. "The doctor says your broken leg will be six months healing. Robin and John will be in Acre by then." She clenched her hands into tight fists. "I should have thought through all the possibilities. I know Robin well. I should have realized that nothing was going to prevent him from leaving. Not his duties at Locksley, not an incapacitated man-servant, not me..." she faded off, lost in memories and regrets.

"'Tis not your fault," Much insisted, his teeth grinding together in pain. Now that he was awake, the pain was intensifying, threatening the hurl the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He would never survive the embarrassment of soiling his would-be mistress' dress. "It was I who dreamt up this cockamamie plan."

He paused. "Did it not seem believable?"

Marian laughed, a hearty, genuine laugh coming from deep within. In spite of the pain, Much smiled. He hadn't heard her laugh like that since before Robin had informed her of his plans to accompany the King to the Holy Land.

"You have a broken leg, Much. There is no way to fake that. How can it not seem believable?" She smiled, and clasped his hand. Much felt heat flood his body.

"I am not speaking of the outcome, Lady Marian. I mean the ruse. Did it seem...staged?"

She furrowed her brow, her eyes drifting off as she recalled the incident of which Much was surprised to find he had no memory. "No," she answered finally. "It seemed real enough. After all, multiple people have confirmed that the forest is haunted by a band of vicious outlaws. It seems only logical that you, having ridden into the forest, might come galloping out of it on your horse. The fact that you did so just as the King's army was riding by, causing your own horse to spook and throw you is mere coincidence."

Much snorted at the idea that the trusty old mare he'd been riding would have reared in fright at the sight of the great war party. No, rearing was a trick Robin had taught her to do as a boy, and Much had simply cued her into playing her part. A thought jumped into his head. "That is it...Robin knew I did it deliberately because I was on Biscuit!"

Marian shook her head. "He was not there, remember? And he did not ask for details. His mind was elsewhere in those days. Besides, he thinks Biscuit is long retired from her saddle days."

Much settled back down as the bands of pain tightened around his heart. He had broken his leg falling from a horse, and Master Robin hadn't even inquired as to who the brute was that threw him?

"Do not fret," Marian said, seemingly reading his thoughts. She lifted a cool, wet rag to his forehead to chase away the sweat that was beginning to form there. "He was distracted with the details of leaving."

_I was one of those details, _Much thought, ashamed at the ungracious nature of his mind. He hadn't the courage to ask Marian if Robin had even stopped by to see him before he had left. _What a sorry lot we are, both still making excuses for this man._

Much looked over at Marian then. Beth had been right. Although she was still as beautiful as ever to Much, it was obvious even to his adoring eye that his master's absence was wearing on her. Beneath her puffy eyelids he could see dark purple circles, and her once-full cheeks seemed gaunt, as if eating was a chore she was gladly shirking. But worst of all was the dull sheen in her normally sparkling eyes. The feisty fire that he had often seen burning in them, the one that Robin loved to ignite by egging her on, the one that appeared whenever Robin (but not Much) walked into the room, was gone.

"I am sorry I was not able to keep him from leaving you," Much said, his voice barely above a whisper. He closed his eyes as pain, nausea and regret washed over him in equal measures.

"Do not be sorry, dear Much." And as she squeezed his hand to impress her point, he found himself feeling not so sorry after all.

* * *

><p>Much spent the next two months in bed, the ennui of being bed-ridden broken only by the doctor and Marian's daily visits. The doctor always assured him he was healing "well, quite well," which Much took to mean that he would not die. As for walking without pain or a limp, or, heaven forbid, riding, all that was in God's hands according to the doctor. Marian's visits, on the other hand, always cheered him enormously.<p>

"Look what I found today, Much," Marian said as she swept into his room one afternoon. "Raspberries!" She swept off the cloth covering the basket nestled in the crook of her arm to reveal a small cache of the plump berries. Much's mouth watered.

"So late in the year? I thought I had eaten my last berry weeks ago." Marian passed the basket to him, and he dug in hungrily, stuffing his cheeks. It was only when he reached up to wipe the dribble of juice off his chin that he thought to offer some to Marian. His face burned with embarrassment.

She smiled and shook her head, and he blushed harder, marveling at her ability to read his mind. Could she read his affections for her as easily? "I had plenty when I came upon them," she insisted. "Enjoy them, dear friend. I do fear this is truly the last of them."

They fell into silence then, both thinking of the man who linked them. Before they had begun scheming to keep Robin in England, they had never had much occasion to spend in each other's company without Robin's dominating personality. It was only natural that the silence created in his absence would be filled with conversation about him. "I wonder how close they are," Much murmured.

Marian shook her head and looked out the window. "Is it silly for me to look towards the road every day, expecting to see him returning?"

"No," Much insisted. "Although it is silly of you to insist on visiting me every day. I am sure that a lady such as yourself has much more pressing obligations to which to attend."

"Like what, my embroidery?" Marian scoffed. "You and I both know that needlepoint is no strong suit of mine. Besides, it is my duty as the sheriff's daughter to visit the sick of the village."

"I would feel more comfortable if they would let me return to my own quarters," Much said, shifting in the bed. "'Tis not right for me to be laid up in Master Robin's bed."

"He insisted you stay here," Marian reminded Much. "And I agree. Up here you can get plenty of fresh air and warm sunshine, both of which are vital if we wish your humors to realign quickly. Besides, he has no use for it now." The pain in her eyes was blatant, and Much found himself wondering if Marian and Robin's relationship was as innocent as he had presumed it. For certain, he had caught the young lovers kissing on more than one occasion, and he had stood guard on more than one evening while Robin slipped up to Marian's room, but still...

"Well," Marian said, dusting her hands on her dress and shaking her head. "I had better continue on my rounds. The miller's wife had her baby yesterday, and I fear this last birth has taken its toll on her."

Much nodded sympathetically, even as his chest constricted. _Don't leave me, _he thought. _Not yet._

"Tomorrow?" Marian asked, smiling at him. "I am going to the forest again in the morning; I think I know where some fresh mushrooms are growing. I shall bring them to you if I find any."

Much smiled back, hoping it didn't seem forced. "You know me too well," he said. He watched her go, his teeth locked in agony. The throbbing in his leg, which always abated when she appeared, was returning.

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, the doctor proclaimed Much ready to walk. "A few turns around the Manor is just what you need," he said. "You need to put some muscle back on that leg before you walk it all the way to the Holy Land."<p>

The Holy Land. Most days, Much managed to forget that it was still his duty to reunite himself with Robin once he had healed. And although his duty as Robin's servant was foremost in his heart, he still prayed to be spared the journey. Much had no desire to leave the boundaries of Locksley. He broke a sweat just thinking about venturing into the next town, much less leaving England's shores all together. It was a journey so beyond anything he could imagine that his brain simply shut down every time he dwelt on it. But he knew that he had to heal and get himself to the Holy Land as quickly as possible, in order to save both Robin and his brother.

Marian brought him crutches that afternoon, and together they ventured out for Much's first trip.

"Tell me," Marian began, attempting to distract him from the pain, "How could you be certain that you would break your leg in the fall? I always thought that to be the riskiest part of your plan. I have seen you fall from your horse many times, and yet never once have I seen you break a bone."

Much laughed. "Ah yes, but I have seen many broken. Or have you forgotten all the limbs you and Robin broke between the two of you growing up? I know just the wrong way to fall off a horse to ensure that a limb would snap."

Marian grimaced. "_I_ only broke my arm once," she reminded him. "And that was all Robin's fault."

"I told him he should not have lept from the tree like that onto your horse's back. 'Tis a wonder you did not die from fright."

"'Tis a wonder he did not die from wrath," Marian retorted, recalling the memory. Robin had dropped gracefully onto her horse's back as she passed beneath the tree, but had not planned on her young mare being so skittish. The trio had taken off, galloping into the woods. Both Marian and Robin had been thrown, but Marian had hit a tree on her way down, and her left arm had given way. Her father had never allowed her to ride the mare after that, and had sold her the following spring. Marian had been furious with Robin for many months after, and Much recalled that he had spent many nights that summer waiting under Marian's window with Robin perched on the sill above, begging for Marian's forgiveness.

"You do surprise me sometimes, Much," Marian remarked, before falling silent, lost no doubt in a memory of happier times and leaving him to wonder just how exactly he was surprising to her.

* * *

><p>It was slow going, and often painful, but every time Much thought to quit, he thought of Marian, suffering in Robin's absence. <em>I have to bring him home to her, <em>he thought. _If he does not return then I shall not either, for I could not bear to be the one to tell her that he is gone._

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the months into seasons. Robin had left in the spring, and it was now early winter. Marian still visited every day, although it was clear Much no longer truly qualified as one of the infirm of the village. Much's first task upon leaving his bed had been to move back to the servants' quarters, so Marian now had to visit with him in the great hall of Locksley. When she entered the hall on the day he planned to tell her of his departure, he was nearly bowled over by the sight of her, stomping the snow off her boots, shaking the last few errant flakes from her hood, rubbing her rosy cheeks and nose. How could Robin, who had her love, have ever looked this woman in the eye and told her he was leaving? Sometimes Much felt as if he did not know his master at all. He decided to tell Marian straightaway before he lost his nerve.

"I leave tomorrow to join Master Robin in the Holy Land, Lady Marian."

She looked up, shocked. "No," she said.

Much opened his mouth, then closed it. It was not for him to disagree with someone of Marian's station, but he had to leave.

"You must wait," she insisted. "It is winter now, and no time for travel. You must stay here until spring, when the roads are passable."

"The King's war will not wait for the change of seasons. I will go to London, and meet an outgoing convoy there. With any luck, I will be with Robin in five months."

Marian appeared not to hear him. "You must wait until spring," she insisted again.

"I cannot," he answered simply.

"Robin will just have to fetch his own water for a few more months," she huffed. "There is no use in you leaving now and dying from exposure before ever leaving England."

Much, unable to withstand Marian's penetrating gaze any longer, closed his eyes and whispered, "I must. I have to see my brother home. As soon as I arrive, Robin will release him."

Marian gasped. "I am so sorry, Much. I have spent so much time being angry with Robin for leaving that I have nearly forgotten about your brother. Of course you must go."

Much let out a huge sigh of relief. Perhaps Marian was so acclimated to people leaving her by now that she didn't put up too much of a fight. Certainly, Robin had not so easily placated her with his own news of departure. _Of course, she doesn't love you either, _he reminded himself.

The following morning, Marian escorted Much to the rise overlooking the village. "The road is just beyond those trees," she said, pointing behind him. "I am sorry I cannot accompany you any further."

"You should not have come this far," Much reminded her. "It is not safe."

"I can see the village below," she said. "They can hear my cries if something happens. Besides, do I not venture into the forest nearly every day?"

Much did not tell her that he did not approve of that behavior either. He had seen Robin chastise her, and had witnessed the wrath that had followed.

"I must ask one last favor of you," she continued.

"Anything," Much agreed. "I am forever in your debt."

Marian reached up to untie the necklace she was wearing. It was a plain leather strip, and whatever amulet was suspended on it was hidden beneath her dress. Marian dropped it into Much's hand.

"Tell Robin that I shall no longer wear his ring," she said, her voice icy. Much looked down and immediately recognized the metal band.

"My lady..." he sputtered.

"He should be expecting it," Marian answered. "Do not think I am shifting this burden in its entirety off to you without having first tried myself. He would not take the ring from me, even after I dropped it at his feet and stalked off. I awoke the next morning to find it lying on the pillow next to my face."

"And when we return home?"

Marian's face contorted in pain. "I cannot think of it at this time," she answered finally.

They stood in silence for a few moments, the uncertainties stretched out before them. Both knew that it might be the last time they ever saw one another.

"I will bring him home to you, I promise," Much said.

"You should not make promises you cannot keep," Marian whispered.

"I will keep this promise, my lady," Much replied. _And in doing so, I will also force Robin to keep and honor the many promises he has made to you as well._

They fell into silence once more. Much thought he saw hope flare, however briefly, in her eyes at his wild promise, and felt his heart thump uncontrollably in response.

"You should go," Marian finally said. "While there is still daylight."

"I can not thank you enough for caring for me these last few months. It is because of you that I am even able to make this journey."

Marian laughed. "A few raspberries and mushrooms are hardly what restored the strength in your leg."

"Maybe not," he answered. "But you - your person - encouraged me. I told myself that I had to heal, for your sake. So that I could bring Robin home."

"Do not make me cry, Much. I have cried too much these last few months as it is."

"Then I owe you an apology," he said.

"Do not apologize either. I can grow weepy just watching the children play in the meadow. Their carefree nature reminds me of our childhood." Much did not ask her to clarify if he he was included in the "our." Although he had accompanied Robin and Marian on the majority of their childhood escapades, he was well-aware that his stature as a servant naturally precluded him.

"Then, with your permission, I shall take leave of Nottingham." Marian nodded her acquiescence, and Much took a few steps, only to stop as the finality of the situation pressed down on his shoulders. He spun around on his heels, jogged back to Marian, and pressed a kiss to her lips before he could stop himself.

To his surprise, Marian did not slap him. She did not even pull away. Instead, she went very, very still, as if making a decision. Her decision reached, she quickly kissed him back, then pulled away. Her eyes met his, a shy smile on her face and the hint of a question in her eyes.

He smiled back, shrugged his shoulders, and walked away.

The End

_~Dedicated to the memory of the original Beaglicious~_


End file.
